Leha Guilmette steps on stage in a tiny, bejeweled red-white-and-blue costume — scantier than most swimsuits, it emphasizes her toned, spray-tanned physique.

The pageant judges look her up and down, carefully jotting notes.

Afterward, Guilmette rushes backstage — where cries for “More butt tape!” can be heard — and lines up for the next round: introductions.

The contestants assemble for the bathing suit portion of the “Mrs.” beauty pageant.Photo: Jason Wise/Bravo

When it’s her turn, Guilmette grabs her husband’s hand, and the pair steps into the spotlight as their two children shout, “Yeah Mommy! You’re going to win!”

Guilmette, 34, is a regular on the “Mrs.” pageantry circuit, where marriage is a requirement and attorneys, pilots and CEOs spend tens of thousands of dollars to battle it out in bikinis and glitzy evening gowns for the honor of wearing a big rhinestone crown — no prize money here.

A new Bravo series, “Game of Crowns,” which premieres Sunday, follows Guilmette and five other women, mostly in their 30s and 40s, as they balance family life, demanding careers and the peculiar world of adult pageantry — in which married women are judged on evening wear, swimwear and an interview.

“The entire process was about a year and a half long,” Guilmette says about this year’s prep for the Mrs. America pageant, which takes place in Tucson, Arizona, in August.

“From losing 70 pounds with personal trainers and nutritionists, to gown shopping and hair extensions and teeth whitening and eyelash extensions, there’s so much that goes into it — about $10,000.”

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Guilmette began competing in pageants as a teen, but when she hung up her heels at age 23 to start a family and build a career as a technical recruiter, she never thought she’d strut the stage again.

“I decided to compete again when a girlfriend of mine said, ‘Leha, you lost yourself in your career, your house. You have this mom’s guilt where you think that everything has to be perfect. You need to do something for yourself,’ ” Guilmette recalls.

Lori-Ann Marchese, the youngest competitor on the reality series at 29, says she spent upward of $10,000 to compete in Mrs. America last year, including $4,000 on a dress and $2,000 for hair and makeup. She dedicated eight months to working with a coach, who prepped her for the interviews and taught her to finesse her walk.

Marchese, a fitness consultant and trainer from Connecticut, didn’t make it past the first round.

The five-figure sums and yearlong commitments are shocking, but the women insist it’s not so different from their friends’ pricey pastimes.

“It’s like making a choice to do any hobby,” explains 40-something Lynne Diamante, a former Mrs. Rhode Island USA and attorney who owns an eyewear business with her ophthalmologist husband. “Some women go away for spa weekends, we compete against each other in pageants.”

Though she is proud of what she’s accomplished, Guilmette, the reigning Mrs. Rhode Island America, is in no rush to tell colleagues about her ostentatious pursuit.

“I’m not sending Evites to my events out at work,” she laughs. “I think pageantry is often misunderstood and gets a bad rap.”

Critics of pageants question the competitions’ emphasis on stereotypical definitions of beauty — and, in the case of the Mrs. circuit, marriage roles, too.

Marchese, for one, says she’s faced discrimination for not having children.

“There was one judge that told me, ‘What’s so hard about your life? You have no children,’ ” she recalls. “Sometimes they want an older woman with kids.”

But the competitors insist they’re judged on their confidence, healthy physique and relatability — and that pageants give them a much-needed morale boost, too.

Vanassa Sebastian, a nurse anesthetist, won Mrs. Connecticut America in 2012 after a battle with breast cancer. Her illness encouraged her to “be the best me I could be — and to win for myself.

“I thought, God, this is a great opportunity to show women that this diagnosis doesn’t define you. You can still be a beauty queen!” says Sebastian, who is in her “early 40s.” “Of course, I have my moments of doubt. I have some asymmetry in my breasts from radiation and, you know, it’s OK. You just have to love yourself.”

Others have also used pageantry as a way to overcome a personal crisis.

Shelley Carbone, a 41-year-old nurse and mom of four, won Mrs. Connecticut America in 2010 after her mom secretly registered her to raise her spirits after she suffered a miscarriage.

And Susanna Paliotta, a 40-year-old pilot with two daughters on the pageant circuit, decided to compete as a way to “find my own identity as a middle-aged woman.”

Unlike the teen circuit, which primarily focuses on beauty, or kiddie competitions, which have famously drawn ire for sexualizing minors, the Mrs. circuit puts a stronger emphasis on the interview portion of the competition — it’s 50 percent of the score. And that, say the women, proves the competition is as much about personal accomplishment as it is about looking good in a swimsuit.

“I don’t find any vanity in taking care of yourself,” Diamante says. “I don’t see any conflict with being a feminist and supporting women’s issues and competing in pageants at all.”